


The Hunt

by Miri1984



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hatesex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content, au where everyone is alive except bertie, grizzop is in the grip of the hunt but he definitely wants this, kinda sorta?, oscar is always up for a bit of sausage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: They lose Wilde and Grizzop has to find him. Which he does, of course. Far too efficiently.
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101





	The Hunt

They lost Wilde. In itself this wouldn’t be so much of a problem for Grizzop - he despised the man after all - but he held too many pieces of the puzzle, knew too much about the killswitch, and he hadn’t been considerate enough (Grizzop laughed at the thought of Wilde ever being considerate) to leave a forwarding address.

‘Well then,” Zolf said. “Another reason that man is the most irritating one on the fucking planet.”

The Prague apartment he’d told the LOLOMG to meet him in was completely trashed, Sasha picked over broken ceramics and scattered papers with a keen eye.

“Looks like a professional job,” she said. “But I don’t think he was here when they came for him.”

“So he ran?” Hamid asked.

“Seems likely,” Sasha said. 

Grizzop let out a sigh and picked up a discarded dressing gown, flung over the back of a chair that had been tipped over, the stuffing ripped out and scattered around the room with the rest of the mess. He sniffed it, delicately at first. Expensive cologne and traces of cigar smoke. Wilde didn’t smoke, but that was only mildly interesting, Artemis knew how many people he’d had in this flat over the past few weeks.

Stupid of him. Any one of them could have been there to scope it out, prepare it for whoever had hit it, whoever had forced him to run. Underneath those two smells though was the third, the one he needed, the unmistakable and unique smell of Wilde himself.

He breathed it in. Closed his eyes. Traced the direction he needed to go.

When he opened them again he saw Azu looking at him curiously. “What are you doing?”

“Getting his stupid scent,” Grizzop said.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? We need to find him right?”

“Yeah we kind of do,” Zolf said. 

Grizzop shrugged. “So. I’m a hunter.” He tapped his breastplate, indicating the symbol of Artemis there. “It’s what I _do.”_

“I didn’t know you did it by _smell_ though,” Hamid said, sounding a little put off.

Grizzop looked at him. “Well yeah, I didn’t know you were a tiny dragon boy either but we haven’t exactly had time for lengthy heart to hearts about our biological functions, have we?”

Zolf sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I probably should pencil it into our schedule.”

“You like wasting time, don’t you?” Grizzop snapped.

“You don’t need to…”

“You can track him, then, Grizzop?” Hamid said, talking over the top of Zolf.

“Yeah. He was here less than four hours ago, I’ve got the scent, I can find where he’s gone.”

“‘Aight then Grizzop,” Sasha said. “Lead the way.”

Grizzop looked at her, then at the others. “Ah, no.”

“No?” Zolf looked like he was gearing up for another argument. Another _waste of time._ “Look Grizzop, I know you hate him but we _need_ him otherwise…”

Zolf was so _slow_ sometimes _._ “I mean no, I’m not going to lead you. That’s not how this works.”

“What do you mean?” Azu asked. 

“I need a clear trail, no distractions. You lot will just get in the way.”

“Oh come on Grizzop…” Sasha started, and Grizzop felt a _tiny_ bit guity.

“Okay, Sasha, _that_ lot,” he indicated Azu, Hamid and Zolf with a wave of his hand “will just get in the way, but you don’t need to come with either. Gimme the mobile stone, I’ll call you when I’ve found him.”

He held out a hand. Zolf stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the others. “Fine,” he said, and fished the stone out of his pocket, slapping it into Grizzop’s hand. “Stay safe.”

Grizzop’s heart rate had already increased, the scent of Wilde in his nostrils and the thrill of the beginning of a hunt coursing through his veins. It was hard not to give Zolf his biggest grin.

“It won’t be long,” he said, and he ran.

#

Grizzop knew Prague well enough, from his time hunting Kafka (they’d never given him a scent for Kafka, never told him who he was hunting for and It _still_ made him furious - if they’d just been _sensible_ he’d have found him so much earlier and perhaps Aziza and Bertie would still be alive) and the streets were familiar enough for him to tune them out, simply relying on his senses to track where Wilde had fled.

He was trickier than Grizzop had expected for a fancy wizard type, sticking to back streets and obscure routes, doubling back on himself, but it was obvious enough that the people who were following him were as good as he was. 

Better, actually.

He found the first corpse about an hour after he’d set off - face frozen in a rictor of fear. He’d fallen off a roof, probably hit by one of Wilde’s spells at an opportune time. He was dressed like a regular thug, the kind that were common in every city, really. Grizzop didn’t have time for a thorough investigation, though, because Wilde’s scent had changed slightly. Now it had in it the hint of blood.

#

He found him near the banks of the Vlatava - a dirty stretch of beach that wasn’t used for anything in a district full of run down and abandoned buildings - surrounded by four thugs. Oscar was standing in the middle, arms loose by his side, but Grizzop could see the slump of exhaustion in his shoulders from hours of running. The thugs were utterly focused on the man in front of them, obviously wary - there’d been two more corpses on the trail - and they circled him while Oscar talked. Grizzop was too far away to make out the words but they sounded calm and measured, like the man was trying to reason his way out of this.

Obviously they wanted him alive, and that meant Grizzop had the advantage.

Heart thumping, blood surging, he drew his bow and whispered a prayer, feeling the light of Artemis infuse him, heighting all his senses.

He loosed the arrow and it hit one of the circling thugs square in the eye. He toppled, and Oscar moved like lightning, a dagger appearing in one hand as he gestured with the other. Another thug fell with Oscar’s dagger in his throat, a third froze in place with a slight purple glow. Grizzop shot the final moving thug, but his aim was off and the arrow pinged off his leather pauldron staggering him but not enough to stop him from shoving a sword in Oscar’s direction. Cursing, Grizzop drew and loosed again, two more arrows, one catching the thug in the chest, another in the arm. He went down, but Grizzop could see bright blood on Oscar’s less than perfectly white shirt where the man’s sword had cut him.

The final thug, struggling against whatever spell Oscar had cast, fell with an arrow in his throat, and Grizzop vaulted over the wall that was hiding him and ran down to the water.

Oscar spun as he heard Grizzop approach, dagger still dripping blood in one hand, a rent in his shirt exposing a deep cut along his side, hair wild and eyes blazing.

Satisfaction buzzed through him, suffusing his limbs with heat and purpose.

“Was that all of them?” he asked. Oscar nodded, then swayed. Grizzop cursed, grabbed Oscar’s arm and pulled him back towards the tumbled down buildings by the side of the river.

Oscar hissed in pain at being manhandled but Grizzop didn’t have time to worry about that and shoved him into what looked like an abandoned pub, following close behind.

“Get this off,” he snarled out, tugging at the shirt. Oscar blinked at him for a second before realising what Grizzop needed and trying to strip the shirt off, but he stumbled to one knee, the shirt over his head, gasping in pain. Grizzop snarled and shoved him down onto his back, ripping the cloth aside. He straddled Wilde’s hips and slapped his hands together, running them over the wound, murmuring his prayer and feeling Artemis answer him with that extra surge he only ever got on the hunt.

Oscar’s skin felt hot and smooth under his hands and he could feel the thump of his blood in his ears and his nose was full of Wilde’s scent, urgent and present and overpowering, the end of his hunt, his _goal._

He realised he was panting, hands still on Wilde’s flesh, staring down at him with tunneled vision. Oscar was looking up at him, eyes dark, one eyebrow cocked in interest.

“Grizzop?” he said, and his voice was low and rumbled through his chest and up through Grizzop, making him shiver, “what’s going on?”

Grizzop snapped his mouth closed and struggled for control. The thugs on the riverbank hadn’t been enough. _Finding_ Wilde hadn’t been enough. He still needed to _hunt, fight, kill…_

Oscar shifted under him, hips tilting upwards, he was almost certainly just trying to dislodge Grizzop so that he could get up, get decent, make his way back to the apartment but Grizzop couldn’t stop the guttural growl that escaped him. His prey was moving. His prey was trying to escape. Instinct made Grizzop tighten his thighs around Oscar’s middle, and both his hands shot out to grab Oscar’s wrists. Oscar gasped a little at that even as Grizzop leaned forward, sucking in a deep, long breath, more of Oscar’s scent, tinged now with something more than blood, more than just the hunt.

Arousal.

“Well this is definitely not a side of you I’ve seen before,” Oscar said, obviously trying for a light tone, but his voice was breathless and Grizzop was too tightly pressed against him not to realise he was more than simply curious about Grizzop’s mood.

“Shut up,” Grizzop managed to choke out, over the tides of want and lust that were coursing through him.

Oscar pressed his lips together for a moment, then tried to move his hands. Grizzop snarled again and tightened his grip.

Oscar’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and beneath him, Grizzop felt him harden even more.

Kinky bastard. 

_The hunt wasn’t fussy. It wanted culmination, and if he couldn’t kill Oscar he could definitely…_

“Grizzop,” Oscar’s tone was slow and careful now, but still breathless. “If you don’t let me get up soon we might end up doing something you’ll regret.”

Grizzop narrowed his eyes. “Me, but not you?” he said. He was rocking backwards and forward, he realised, seeking friction, wanting more, wanting… 

_Wanting._

“Oh I’m not built for regret,” Oscar said.

Grizzop kissed him to wipe that stupid smile of his face.

There was no point in dragging this sort of thing out. Grizzop fucked like he did everything, with ruthless efficiency, and there was no reason why he was going to change that for someone like Oscar Wilde, someone he didn’t even _like,_ even if he did look stupidly pretty laid out beneath Grizzop like a six foot two flesh present _._ Luckily Oscar didn’t seem inclined to draw things out either, kissing him back with skill and determination (Grizzop wondered, wildly, if he’d kissed a goblin before, because he seemed to have no trouble at all with the teeth,something that made most other species hesitate). He released Oscar’s hands, and they got busy at the buckles of Grizzop’s armor - again not a surprise that he was adept at undressing people, the man had a very particular skillset, one that usually drove Grizzop wild with anger but right now was driving him wild with something else entirely.

He was naked remarkably quickly (efficiency from a human, _finally)_ and clever fingers roamed over his skin, human sized hands stroking and exploring and finding spots that made lights go off behind Grizzop’s eyes. He threw back his head and groaned when Wilde grasped his dick and started to stroke, fast and hard and with just the right amount of pressure, pleasure building and cresting towards a peak rapidly and making Grizzop squirm and gasp under Wilde’s touch.

It didn’t take long for Grizzop to come, shouting his release and bucking up into Wilde’s grip, one of Wilde’s hands bracing his back while the other milked him through it, come splattering all over Wilde’s chest, across his recently healed wound and even up to his chin.

Grizzop sucked in a breath, then got off Wilde, working at the laces on his significantly tented trousers.

“Don’t feel obliged to…” Oscar started, trying to be _polite_ Grizzop guessed, not understanding that they were by _no means anywhere near finished._

Grizzop ignored him, stripping him naked and settling into position over Wilde’s rock hard dick, looking up to see Wilde’s mouth open and eyes wide. “Unlike you, Wilde, I’m not _rude,”_ he said, and Oscar’s chuckle was cut off as Grizzop swallowed him down.

“Gods,” he heard Oscar say, then he let out a long, heartfelt moan as Grizzop worked him into his throat. He felt Widle’s fingers brush along the top of his head and out towards his ear and shuddered, his dick hardening again as they ghosted around the rim, toying with the rings there. He bared his teeth and Wilde gasped, Grizzop looking up to see fear in those eyes as well as arousal. Almost chuckling, Grizzop went back to work, finding a rhythm that soon had Wilde bucking his hips and crying out.

Wilde barked out a warning and Grizzop pulled off grasping Wilde’s dick in one hand and his own in the other, jerking them in time. He watched Wilde’s face as he came, mouth open, lips wet, hair stuck to his cheeks with sweat and some of Grizzop’s come, utterly debauched and ruined. _Perfect._ The sight was enough to push him over the edge again as well, painting Oscar with more of his come, pleasure and satisfaction surging through him, wringing him out, finally replete. 

Grizzop flopped down next to Wilde on the dusty floor, wondering idly if maybe the building wasn’t completely deserted.

Oh well. If anyone had walked in on them they would have gotten an eyeful, and if they hadn’t stuck around to enjoy it or tried to kill them it really wasn’t Grizzop’s business.

“That’s some refractory period you have there,” he heard Wilde say. 

“There are some advantages to being a goblin,” Grizzop said. “A lot, actually. Not that you lot care.”

“My lot being humans.”

“Yeah. Posh ones, specifically.”

“It might surprise you to know that there have been times in my life when “posh” would have been the last word people would use to describe me,” Oscar said, and then there was a small, disgusted noise. “Ugh it’s filthy in here.”

“As if you have any problem with being filthy,” Grizzop said, looking over to where Wilde was sitting up, chest and parts of his face still painted with both their come, dust and dirt smeared over his skin. Grizzop felt another interested twitch in his dick, but he repressed it. Didn’t want to flatter Wilde’s ego _that_ much..

“There’s a time and a place, Grizzop,” WIlde said, smiling.

“Yeah, and apparently it’s here and about half a minute ago.”

Wilde laughed, then muttered a singsong phrase and waved his hand. 

Grizzop had managed to get through things with nothing but dust on his knees, but he was too relaxed to bother to get up just yet, and simply watched as Wilde got himself dressed. He tutted a little at the torn shirt, then pulled off his cuffs and pulled them back on again, becoming immediately the immaculate, smarmy arsehole of a handler Grizzop had been tasked with finding.

Speaking of… he really should get the mobile stone out of his pack. But it was all the way over the other side of the room and what with the rush of the hunt and the sex afterwards Grizzop was very understandably tired. He put his arms behind his head instead and watched Wilde, who smoothed his hands through his curls and raised an eyebrow down at Grizzop.

“Are you going to take up residence here?” Wilde said.

“Shut up and let me enjoy the afterglow.”

“Uncharacteristic of you, not to want to get going again straight away.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Wilde.”

“A lot more now than I did a half hour ago,” Wilde smirked, and Grizzop had to work not to smile in response.

A muffled voice came from his pack. “Grizzop. Grizzop have you got him? Grizzop?” It sounded like Hamid. Grizzop sighed heavily and got to his feet, padding over to the pack and opening it. He pulled out the stone.

“I found him. He’s fine.”

“More than,” Wilde said languidly, and Grizzop shot him a warning look as Wilde moved up behind him.

“Oscar!”

“Yes Hamid.”

“Oh _good._ We were worried about you but Grizzop said he could track you and…”

“He did. With a great deal of efficiency.”

“Well we’ve done our best to clean up your apartment but you might want to come back and tell us if anything’s missing.”

“Will do, Hamid. As soon as Grizzop’s got his clothes back on.”

“What?” Oscar reached over and plucked the stone from Grizzop’s hand. “See you shortly Hamid,” he said.

“Wait… why is Grizz….” Oscar cut off communication and tucked the stone into his pocket, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning at Grizzop.

Grizzop glared at him. “I really hate you, you know.”

Oscar’s grin only widened. “I know.”


End file.
